


I Love You Anyway (And Other Stories)

by Pilandok



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-13 02:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilandok/pseuds/Pilandok
Summary: A collection of drabbles about various RuPaul girls, will most likely contain Trixie Mattel. Some will be connected, some won't.1. I Love You Anyway (Sharon/Alaska/Trixie)2. It's the Same Old Thing (apocalypse au, Shalaska & Trixya)3. Waiting For Your Moment To Fall On Me (Vixie)





	1. I Love You Anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon and Alaska have always been drawn to the same things. Even until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is just a short drabble I wrote before I finished the last chapter of Star Power Over Me. Shalaskie, anyone? Thank you for reading!

“I know you have a crush on her.”

Sharon Needles didn’t have to turn around to find that Alaska has, quite aptly, snaked her way towards him. She settled herself in the familiar space behind him and rested her head on his shoulder. Sharon isn’t bothered, used to the sensation. His eyes was on the performance on stage.

Sharon and Alaska were situated to the side of the stage, behind a curtain, and a couple of young audience members seemed to have their eyes set on the pair. With their phones clutched, ready to take a picture, their eyes widened when they saw Alaska wrap her arms around Sharon’s waist.

“You’re letting them have a field day with this,” Sharon commented, ignoring what Alaska had said.

“We need to tease them a little dose of Shalaska every once in a while,” she shrugged, stretching her vowels, “it’s part of our brand.”

Sharon hummed noncommitantly and he made no motion to move away from her.

“Easy for you to say, I get all the hate,” Sharon remarked, not unkindly, just as a statement of fact.

Alaska’s wrinkled her nose at this but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled on Sharon a little tighter. It has been a while, but he knows enough to understand this as a protective gesture.

“Shh,” Sharon shushed Alaska even though she wasn’t saying anything. “I like this song.”

“Of course,” Alaska said sarcastically, still in-character, “we all know how Sharon Needles just can’t get enough of _country_.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’ll have you know that this song is terribly clever and—“

“And comedic, and self-referential, and authentic,” Alaska interrupted, voice winding down to a whisper. Sharon began to wonder what game she was playing at. “Like you,” she finished.

“And you…” he said slowly, it suddenly dawned on him. He turned around to look at Alaska but she was looking over at the stage wistfully, although she still hasn’t unwrap her arms around Sharon. “ _You_ have a crush on her,” he accused.

“As do you, Noodles,” she answered, the last syllable drawn out even longer for full effect, “you’re all butched up.”

“Lasky,” he cooed sweetly. The reemergence of their pet names was an alarm bell, a warning that they might be threading on some dangerous territory, “what are you doing?”

 Alaska looked down at Sharon who has to strain his head upward to eye her, towering over him in high heels. Her focusing on him, unblinking In full black contact lenses, with the absolute certainty that she has no intention to answer his question, created an overall effect that was more than unnerving. These were the kinds of things that excited Sharon.

Clicking sounds from the stage caught both of their attention. They watched the tap dance routine in silence although he could feel Alaska chuckle slightly at the more difficult parts of the number.

 _Adorable_ , was what Sharon assumed she was thinking. He knew because that was what he was thinking too. Goddammit.

“We might be screwed,” Sharon noted. For the first time that night, Alaska broke character and nodded solemnly.

 

When the number ends, Trixie Mattel took a bow while fake-panting, playing at being exhausted. She reached for the mic and tapped on it a few times before speaking.

“Okay guys, I’m going to end my set with an absolutely heart-wrenching song about my real-life break up,” she announced and wiped away a few fake tears. The audience responded with some _awwws_. She then pointed to the side of the stage and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “so yeah, I’m going to need the Ross and Rachel of drag over there to get a _fucking_ room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet. The next chapter will be of a different universe to this one, but this does have a part two in the works. Thank you for reading!


	2. It's the Same Old Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is ending and for Sharon, there's only time to keep one more promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been in the works for a while but I finished Star Power first. But what really propelled this to complete manifestation is that snatch game episode and I was stressed and wanted to create a story to remind myself that RPDR is just a TV show and nothing in this world really matters anyway cause we're all going to die. Thank you for reading!

After twisting the newspapers into long crumpled ropes, Trixie began working on the pile of dried wood and leaves he had spent a few hours collecting. He arranged the kindling, leaning them against each other and kept a hollow in the middle where he put the leaves and a few newspapers. Standing back to inspect his work, he nodded once then reached his hand out expectantly.

Sharon handed him a lighter from his pocket, an orange BiC. Trixie lit the edge of a newspaper jutting out and the flame easily spread to the rest of the leaves. Almost immediately, the fire grew exponentially, extending to the top of the pile, but soon enough it began to shrink. Maybe too quickly, Trixie thought, and reached around for more newspapers to salvage the fire. But it didn’t matter, the flame had caught on.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Sharon commented.

Trixie didn’t expect him to speak, he barely had. Not even to complain or crack a joke.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I learned this much from when I was a kid.”

“Right. Wisconsin, woods, Native American, boy scout,” Sharon answered plainly.

“Yeah,” Trixie poked at the set up with a stick. At least they could keep warm tonight. “Shouldn’t you know this, though? I mean: runaway punk, hippie commune.”

Sharon raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised that Trixie knew that much about him.

“If it ain’t a dumpster fire, I don’t know shit.”

Trixie laughed. Finally. He needed to laugh.

Sharon laughed, too, at his own joke then at Trixie’s absurd laugh. Then he was laughing at all the crazy things he did when he was younger, starving and running away from the cops. Then he was laughing at their whole situation, their disheveled looks and their pathetic setup, their impossible road trip. The world was burning, everyone was eating each other , and he was laughing at that. It was ridiculous, it was hilarious.

Trixie wasn’t laughing anymore, just staring at Sharon carefully.

“Am I scaring you?” Sharon asked mockingly, which wasn’t fair, really, he knew. Trixie had been helping him—actually, doing most of the work. Surviving. Unwittingly taking Sharon along when he came out of nowhere, to Pittsburgh, shouting at him _Hurry! We have to get out of here!_ Sharon was frozen then, completely dissociating, Trixie was pulling at his arm. Next thing he knew he was on an interstate road and Trixie was trying to keep him alive.

“You’d think that after living in Wisconsin, I’d know not to hang out in the woods with a serial killer.”

 Trixie gets it, of course, the humor of it all. The necessity of seeing the world as a big ol’ cosmic joke.

Before this, the only other time Sharon spoke was after waking up in a frenzy in the passenger seat of a car. Through the haze of the residues of a dreamless sleep, he recognized Trixie in the driver’s seat, a mess of color on his face. The first thing that he thought of was to ask for a mirror.

Instead, what came out was “Where are we? We need to get to LA! We need to—I have to find—We need to go to LA—please—I promised—Alaska—“ It was a string of hysterics that Trixie probably didn’t understand but Sharon was too disoriented to explain himself. His head was being bombarded by images of long ago, of old tongue-in-cheek promises that if something ever goes wrong, say, _there’s a zombie apocalypse, we find each other first. Okay, Noodles?_

Sharon opens his mouth to try again, to explain the importance of getting to LA, that they needed to go _now._ But Trixie already understood perfectly.

“We’re going to LA,” Trixie said as a matter-of-factly. Then a little later, too late to be called an afterthought, he added, “I made a promise to Katya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I actually ended up really liking how this one turned out even though I was just being super self-indulgent writing this.


	3. Waiting For Your Moment To Fall On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet and Trixie find themselves kissing a lot more than seven times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see everyone. Oh wow I'm writing Vixie again? It's cause of the odd resurgence of Vixie pics on tumblr and Trixie's ig story of that poodle figurine and she tagged Violet. *tears*
> 
> So this is longer than a drabble. I was thinking of publishing this in two parts so it would feel more drabble-ish but fuck it.
> 
> Also, this is more on the M side.

            The first time Violet kissed Trixie, it was a joke, though more like a prank. A little mean-spirited gesture meant to throw Trixie off and it did. He reacted the way Violet wanted to: frustrated, blubbering, and blushing furiously. Before Violet could bask in her victory, production came over and scolded them, saying they should stop bickering like children and in not too many words that this was not the _kind_ of drama they were looking for. Not them throwing playground insults (“no, _you’re_ the ugly bitch”) at one another.

            Trixie had all but forgotten that fight until he watched that episode of Untucked and found that it didn’t make the cut. Trixie didn’t think too much about the disappointment he felt. He wanted to know how it looked like.

           

            “It would’ve made great TV!” Violet shouted. This was in another time, in another place—in Violet’s New York apartment just after her fashion show. Miss Fame was there and, through a series of random happenstances, Trixie was, too.

            “Yeah, if I was going to get assaulted by you on day twelve of you not showering then the least I could get was more screen time.”

            “Must be because they couldn’t think of a storyline between the season winner and someone who was there for like a total of two seconds,” Violet replied. She was clinging to Miss Fame, demanding affection like a cat.

            “Bitch!” Trixie screams.

            “Wait, that happened? That happened?” Fame asked, confused as ever. She turned her head side to side to look at Violet and Trixie who were sitting either side of him. They didn’t answer her. Trixie looked at Fame affectionately and hugged the arm that Violet wasn’t clinging to. Fame leaned against him slightly. When Violet saw this, she made a sound and repositioned herself to curl up on Miss Fame’s lap.

            “Did you just _purr_?” Trixie asked, laughing.

            “Shut up,” Violet retorted. What she hated was that Trixie got under her skin as much as she did him and can that he can throw her off, too. She still hadn’t forgiven Trixie clocking her missing contact that first day in the workroom.

            “That’s what happens when you spend too much time around that evil cat of yours.”

            “Do not come for my cats, bitch.” Violet sat up to glare at Trixie. “Just because your only friends growing up were the feral mutts you had to take flea baths with, you country hick.”

            “No, I’m serious, Violet. Your cat looks like it’s plotting to kill you for your pasties.”

            “Bitch, you’re just jealous they got more hair than you.”

            The bickering and fighting for Miss Fame’s attention wasn’t new, it was a familiar scene for all of them. It wasn’t just Fame, it was anyone who gets caught up in their stupid arguments. But with Katya, she has enough affection to give both of them, and Pearl doesn’t care enough to humor either of them. Fame enjoyed the attention but she can’t help but think about those cockfighting videos he watched when he was younger that left him traumatized.

            By the time Fame left them for a sanity break, Trixie and Violet have circled back to “you’re the ugly bitch” and “no, _you’re_ the ugly bitch.” Back and forth, they throw shallow insults at each other that became so convoluted and obscure that it was driving them to hysterical laughter.

            “Fuck,” Violet was tearing up, the laughing was hurting her sides. “In drag, you look like a factory-reject matryoshka doll that came out of Katya’s ass.” Trixie opened her mouth to scream but Violet wasn’t done yet, “and _out_ of drag you look like a homunculi baby Jesus that Mary regretted not aborting.”

            “Oh my god,” Trixie laughed in disbelief. After a beat he quipped, “it’s homunculus, by the way, singular.”

            Violet punched his abdomen slightly and Trixie realized that she was resting her head on his lap. With Fame in the other room, Violet had redirected his affection to Trixie.

            “No bitch, plural,” Violet answered, “you’re literally a thousand ugly babies.”

            Violet had been tracing her fingers absentmindedly on Trixie’s stomach and suddenly he became conscious of the shift in the mood. An odd tension bubbled up He felt compelled to continue their insult trade-off to escape the strange atmosphere.

            “And you... you’re—you look like…” Trixie was coming up with blanks and he caught Violet looking at him smugly. He realized that Violet knew exactly what was she was doing.

            “You can’t think of anymore cause you know I’m pretty,” Violet said, now fully confident, “you know I’m hot.”

            Trixie is sure that it was meant to be a jab but it sounded like a challenge. They’ve been arguing the whole night, he wasn’t about to give up now. He just needed to throw Violet off once more. And he knew exactly how to do that.

 

            They had their second kiss that night—and their third, their fourth, and fifth, and sixth.

 

* * *

           

            Their seventh was the start of a game. In a boat full of drag queens, the objective was to not get caught. Trixie didn’t know how it escalated to that point, but the next thing he knew, they were ducking corners to sneak quick kisses from each other. In the crowd, they catch each other’s hands with lingering touches and without anyone looking, they share knowing winks.

            It concerned Trixie slightly that Violet was living her best life playing this game—giggling whenever she managed to steal a kiss before Trixie even saw her coming, grabbing her ass in the presence of other people, then whispering for him to follow her to darker rooms for full make out sessions. Trixie followed, naturally, though he realized soon enough that it stopped being a game they played together because now they were on different teams. His task became that he had to keep up with Violet jumping around endlessly, popping out of nowhere to tease him. Violet’s objective seemed to be to get Trixie, who wasn’t in drag, to pitch a tent. And with that, Violet nibbled on Trixie’s ear then ran off. Trixie’s sure she was playing to win.

            Maybe they weren’t as secretive as they thought they were, especially with the free-flowing drinks leaving them significantly buzzed.

            “You have something on your neck,” Kim Chi said, making a motion to wipe it off. Trixie rushed to wipe it himself and found some pigment of what was unmistakably Violet’s purple. Kim Chi looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Trixie ignored it and turned to look for Violet, spotting her a few acquaintances over talking to some people. He waited for a few seconds before marching over, catching her as she was trying to slip away from the conversation.

            She laughed when he explained her carelessness, “thought you knew, bitch.” Violet patted him on the crotch as she walked away for good measure. Despite his irritation, he felt something stir up inside him. He was losing bad. Trixie rushed to follow Violet who was already talking to another group of people. He cut in unceremoniously.

            “Oh, excuse me. I’m going to need to borrow Violet because some folks were looking for her to talk business,” he said innocently and turned to Violet. “Vi, those people from ancient-twinks-dot-com want to talk to you about the project you proposed?”

            Violet’s mouth dropped in disbelief but before she could protest, Trixie grabbed her by the wrist and began cutting through the crowd. He led them to the bathrooms, gendered signs being ignored throughout the night, and pulled them into the nearest one.

            “Bitch, you—mmph! “Violet’s lips were quickly occupied by Trixie’s as he pushed her against the wall of the bathroom. It was a hungry and hurried kiss with his face pressing harshly onto Violet’s. Her arms darted out to steady herself but Trixie was quick to hold on to her wrists to pin them above her head. _Fuck_ , Violet thought she may be starting to lose again, whatever this game was. They kept changing the rules that she didn’t know exactly what it entailed to win.

Violet didn’t struggle against the grip, instead returning the kiss with equal vigor. Trixie didn’t let off, continuing to kiss her roughly and in the heat of the moment, he bit down on her lip harshly.

            Violet responded with a strangled noise, bucking her hips instinctively.

            This reaction surprised Trixie enough to pull away. He released his grip on her arms and they fell limply to her sides as she slid slightly against the wall. Violet looked spent and the sight of her flushed and panting redirected whatever blood flow was left to his brain southbound.

            Trixie let himself slump forward on to Violet. She felt his whole body against hers and found the rigidness between his legs pressing against her thigh. Trixie took her hand again and guided it to press against his erection over his pants. Violet perked up, this had got to be an admission of defeat.

            “Nobody makes me as hard as you do,” Trixie said in a strained voice. It was a strangely intimate statement. More intimate than Trixie probably realized. This caught Violet off-guard and despite her flushed skin, she blushed. Her sure-win was suddenly becoming unclear again as her mind began to race at Trixie’s words. Violet kept thinking about how much she liked having Trixie like this, pressed up against her and so very conscious about how much he wants her.

            Trixie didn’t make an attempt to move and was seemingly unaware of Violet’s internal crisis.

            “It wasn’t the game or whatever,” Trixie began, “I brought you here cause I wanted to do that.”

            Violet wondered if Trixie was hearing what he was saying, she wonders if he’s still playing the game because her winning was starting to feel like she was losing again. But this time, he seemed to have little desire to analyze his own words, just content in having said those things out loud. Violet remained quiet, although she could swear that Trixie could feel her heart rattling against her rib cage. If he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

            A few minutes more passed before Trixie pushed himself off Violet, gesturing to the door. Violet understood this as them needing to get out before people got suspicious. Trixie chuckled when he saw how messed up Violet looked. She glared at him but was met with Trixie’s apologetic smile. For some reason, neither of them was saying anything. Trixie left first and Violet took the time to fix herself up and gather her thoughts. Her mind was in a whirl, she wanted to do something about it.

            It was easier than she thought, to forget that they were in a game. Even though everything before was just that.

            Violet suddenly rushed out of the bathroom to look for Trixie, the thought of the game now filed under things that don’t matter. No more sneaking around, she just wanted to kiss Trixie again. Maybe in the middle of a boat full of their peers and queer cruisers, it didn’t matter.

            She found him on the other side of the deck, leaning against a railing. Violet made her way to Trixie, not noticing that he was talking to their friends. Trixie spotted her when she was a few meters away and made a face as if he hadn’t seen her all night long. The fake expression fell away, however, when he realized Violet was making a beeline for him.

            Right before Violet reached him, there was a loud explosion in the sky behind Violet. She didn’t turn around, however, fixated only on Trixie. She watched the flashes of colors appear on his face and only then did she realize that they were surrounded by people they knew.

            _Fuck it, let them see._

            Violet pulled Trixie by his shirt and pressed her mouth onto his. When Trixie wrapped his arms around her waist, it felt like her last victory for the night.

            When they pulled away from the kiss, the fireworks were still ongoing. Everyone on the deck was fixated on the sight. Including everyone around that they knew.

            Trixie looked at Violet incredulously. Nobody saw them.

            “How did you know that there was going to be a fireworks display?”

            Violet laughed, as surprised as Trixie was because she had no idea, no idea at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a lot more romantic than I imagined it would be. But let's let them be happy this time.
> 
> Title is from Sky Ferreira's song "Everything is Embarrassing"
> 
> You know what, one day I will write smut. Good ol' proper smut.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
